Reality is Overrated
by lookskindagreyout
Summary: If you're looking for a point, please look elsewhere. But if you're here for the show, have a seat. A 'sudden' roadtrip to New Jersey leads to new discoveries and realizations for much of the Fringe team. PeterxOlivia, WalterxAstrid typical me...
1. Chapter 1

Hello, I'm Faust, and I seem to have written something.

I really hope you aren't expecting anything serious, from this fic, as it was written meerly in fun. I mean, sure, it's got some serious parts, as any decent fic would... but don't be dissapointed to find it lacking a resolute point. I hope you simply have fun with it, as I have. Enjoy!

*I do not own Fringe, and have yet to find a better use for my Tuesday nights.

Chapter One.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Doing that thing with the basket. Stop it."

"What…_this_?"

"Yes, _that_. Knock it off, people are staring."

"Okay." he set his chin in his palm glumly, resting his elbow on the hand bar of the shopping basket, "I'm just bored. I'm sorry."

Peter shook his head, trying to concentrate on the shopping list and ignore his fathers behavior, "We need to pick up some snacks for the road- what do you want?"

"Anything without coconut," Walter replied, his gaze lost in a display of apples.

"Why?" Peter said, before he could stop himself.

"Do you really have to ask, at this point? I'm simply not in the mood for coconut. Peter, this is just a question, but do you _hate_ anything? Not dislike, but actually _hate_?"

Peter looked up at the display of apples as they slowly passed, "Hate's a pretty strong term. I guess I don't. However," he frowned, and Walter looked up at him, " I _do_ hate it when people stare _because you keep riding on the basket_. I told you to stop, now stop."

"Oh," Walter stopped the small tire with his toe, stepping off the foot bar, "Sorry. I don't think I hate anything, either. But if I had to make a choice, it would have to be butterscotch pudding. I would _murder_ butterscotch pudding, given the opportunity."

"That's nice, Walter. I guess we all get to be a little insane." Peter grinned, tipping a carton of butterscotch pudding into the cart.

"Hey!" Walter exclaimed, "I'm serious!" He reached in, taking the pudding and placing it back onto the shelf, "Be careful I don't hit you with this, boy," he grumbled.

"Just pick something for the road, Walter," Peter sighed, stuffing the list into his pocket. The squeak of the front tire of the basket had ceased, and Peter turned around, "Walter?"

Walter was motionless, watching curiously as a shapely brunette passed him, smiling at the attention. His eyes followed her down the aisle, until she disappeared around the corner, flipping her hair over her shoulder for show. He jumped as Peter touched his shoulder, "Ah! What? What was it, you were saying?"

Peter chuckled, "Walter, were you just checking that woman out?"

"No- I just- um- No, no."

Peter grinned, "Don't lie. She was pretty hot, for a tease."

Walter raised a brow, "Hot?"

"She was attractive. That's what 'hot' means," Peter urged him down the aisle again, "But I'm afraid I've got you beat, with that one."

"I beg your pardon?" Walter questioned.

Peter chuckled, "Well, that woman was a total tease. So what you have to do is tease back."

"…Why am I listening to you?"

"You are looking at the duke of dating, my friend," Peter replied, a hint of vanity in his voice, "any kind of lady, I can get them."

Walter blinked, frowning, "You're quite full of yourself, aren't you?"

"Hey, don't hate. I just happen to be what woman want," Peter said, "Watch." he grabbed up a bottle of orange juice, leaning back against the display to read the label, one hand in his pocket, the other arm posed to show the bulge of muscle under his black sweater.

Two woman passed, pausing from their conversation to sneak a glance over at Peter. When they had gone, he turned to his father, "See?"

Walter seemed confused, "So… woman like slobby, unshaven delinquents?" He took the orange juice from him, placing it in the basket.

"No. Just me."

"An interesting, yet slightly snobbish, insinuation, Peter. But I fail to see why a woman would think she could have an intelligent conversation with a man that refuses to tuck in his shirt." Walter mused a shelf of olive oil.

Peter shook his head, "You don't get it. Woman like to believe that under this rough, rebellious exterior is a deep, sensitive guy, capable of feelings and fears."

Walter glanced over at him, "Until you open your mouth, and she realizes you're an idiot," he pointed out.

"Nope. That's where you're wrong. It's not just about getting the looks, everything is about 'the talk'." Peter jammed a thumb at his own chest, "and, with that, I am the _master_."

Walter looked flatly unconvinced, shaking his head as he read the label of spaghetti noodles.

"Fine, I'll prove it," Peter said, slightly offended, and he looked around, spotting a candidate, "Ah- see that woman, over there? I bet I can get her number."

Walter looked up at her, blinked, and returned his attention to the noodles, "I'll bet you can't."

"If I can, you have to eat a butterscotch pudding. The whole thing, not just a few bites."

"Deal."

Composing himself, Peter cleared his throat, slinking toward the produce where the blonde stood, perusing the salad greens. He leaned forward, brushing her with his tensed shoulder, "Oh, hey, sorry," he murmured.

"No problem," she replied, stepping away and looking up, "Oh- hey, Peter."

Peter looked flabbergasted, "Olivia!" he exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping," She laughed, "Were you just trying to pick up on me?"

"What? Oh, no, no, I just…" He glanced back to see Walter gasping with laughter behind the cart. He glared, "I'm just here with Walter, picking up a few things for the trip tomorrow."

Olivia nodded, "Yes; Jersey is a ways off. Hello, Walter," Olivia said as he approached, striking a tear of laughter from his eye.

"Good evening, Agent Dunham." Peter was flushed as he stared at his shoes, and Walter grinned at him, "I've decided I want animal crackers, Peter."

"Oh- yeah. Well, it was nice seeing you," Peter said, clapping his hands, "So, I guess we'll see you tomorrow."

Olivia nodded, "Tomorrow then."

"Great. Goodnight," and he backed away as Olivia returned to the micro greens.

"I know what you're going to say," Peter was growling as he returned to the shopping cart, "And I _know _you set me up for that, you bastard-" he paused, looking around, "Walter?"

He glanced back as Walter was bidding Olivia goodnight, and he hurried to catch up, "Okay, animal crackers."

Peter frowned, "What was that about?"

Walter smirked, flipping Olivia's cell phone number out of his sleeve.

"Jackass," Peter growled.

xXx

"I had no idea they had _frosted_ animal crackers," Walter was saying through a mouthful of cookie as they entered the hotel room, and Peter flipped on the lights, settling the brown paper grocery bags on the counter, "Amazing, truly."

"That's the eighth time you've said that, Walter," Peter sighed, tossing the keys onto the table as Walter settled his own bags on the counter, "Next you'll talk about how festive the sprinkles look, and your favorites are the stuck-together, mutant ones."

Walter blinked, and shrugged, eating another cookie, "These would be good with-"

"Raisins, I know. Don't eat too many, you won't be able to sleep." Peter dropped onto the couch, sighing tiredly. Walter pulled off his coat, draping it over the chair before he took a seat, watching his son.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, "We had a long day," Walter said at last, "but it was nice, to spend it with you. It's always nice to spend it with you."

"Thanks, Walter. Did you pack?" Peter was rubbing his eyes wearily.

"I did." Walter replied.

"Are you sure you got everything? Toothbrush, all that?"

"Yes. I used the checklist, like you told me to."

"Wonderful. Go take a bath and change into your pajamas."

Walter sat, motionless. Peter watched him in confusion, and sat up, alarmed as Walter gripped the crease of his slacks, bowing his head. Walter stood suddenly, the chair clattering backward as he turned away, "I'll be in the bath," he said gruffly, sweeping away. He slammed the door.

"Walter?" Peter questioned, rising and moving to knock on the bathroom door, "Are you alright?"

"Fine. Go away, boy."

Sighing, Peter went back to the couch, stretching out across it and crossing his arms behind his head. He shut his eyes, just for a little while…

xXx


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

Peter woke with a start, knowing that he was being watched. His eyes snapped open, and for a few moments he thought he was staring into a mirror, eyes identical to his own peering down at him, before he blinked to his senses, "Jesus- Walter, what do you want? Don't do that, you scared the hell out of me."

Walter moved away, "Sorry."

Peter sat up, feeling around himself in the dark, "What the…? I swear, I fell asleep on the couch…"

"I moved you," Walter explained quietly, "You didn't look comfortable."

"What time is it?"

"I don't know."

Peter pulled up his sleeve, squinting at the dim, glow-in-the-dark dials of his watch, "It's two in the morning. Why aren't you sleeping? You know we've got a long day ahead of us."

"I'm quite excited. I haven't been to New Jersey since I was incarcerated. You're very beautiful when you sleep, Peter. Did you know that cockroaches have been known to eat the fingernails and eyelashes of sleeping children?"

Peter rubbed his chin, "That's a little creepy, Walter. You've got to try to sleep, okay?"

Walter's eyes continued to watch him in the dark, the presence of his gaze the only evidence Peter had of his location, "I don't want to sleep," Walter whispered.

"Why?" Peter asked, settling back into his pillow.

"I'll miss you again. I don't like to wake up and not see you, Peter. I don't like being alone, with him."

"With who, now?"

Walter was silent a few seconds, "No one. Goodnight, Peter." there was a soft shifting as Walter settled into the blankets, curling his knees to his chest. Peter shut his eyes, but Walter's continued to burn in the dark. The hum of the thermostat overtook them, accented with Peters' soft breath.

Unconsciously, Walter stuck his thumb in his mouth, sucking it quietly. He tried to ignore the form that watched the bed from across the room, expressionless. Walter bit down, drawing blood at the knuckle as the form moved to him, sitting at his bedside, a perfect doppelgänger of himself, "I won't tell him about you," Walter whispered softly to himself, and continued to suckle blood.

xXx

Peter squinted in the flashing glares of the morning sunlight off the windshields of the car lot as they passed on the freeway. To his right, Walter shifted in his seat uncomfortably, frowning at the glove compartment, "I really need to stop, Peter," He mumbled.

"We're almost there. And I told you not to drink coffee, it goes right through you." Peter took the off ramp to the university, slowing in the traffic.

"It went _through_ me fifteen minutes ago," Walter snapped, turning his glare to his son, "Since then, it's only been agony."

A few minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of the university, and Walter scrambled out of the car and hurried away in search of a lavatory. Peter sighed, climbing out of the car and stretching sleepily in the sunshine, watching his breath fog and float away on the still air. This trip was going to take so much time, time that they didn't have… Olivia and Astrid would go on ahead, of course, but it was true that the investigations never truly started until his father arrived…Peter locked the car door and continued inside.

Peter unlocked the lab door and stepped into the cold basement, flipping on the overhead lights, flickering and humming as they warmed up. He went about silently, gathering the papers and files that they would need when they arrived in New Jersey. Walter had made it abundantly clear that he would not be taking flights of any kind ("Do you have any idea how structurally unstable jets _are_?!" He'd cried from the inside of the Vista Cruisers' trunk. "Do you have any idea how mentally unstable _you_ are?!" Peter had responded), so they'd had to drive… he half envied Olivia and Astrid, whom he had to meet at the helipad of the FBI building in…he checked his watch…fifteen minutes.

Peter looked up to see Walter taking the files back out of the case and shuffling them into drawers, "Walter!" Peter snapped, irked.

Walter looked guilty, and dropped the case back onto the table.

"What the hell?" Peter grumped, gathering the files again, "We have to get out of here, or we'll be late. We're already taking too much time on this trip in the first place…Walter?"

"Goodbye for a while, Gene," Walter was cooing, petting the cow gently as it munched, oblivious of his affections, "Be good, now, while I'm out. I'll make sure someone feeds you and milks you, I promise."

A tiny smile plucked at the sides of Peters' mouth, "Come on, Walter," he murmured.

xXx


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three.

"Am I late?" Peter asked, hefting Olivia's suitcases from her car trunk impressively.

"Apparently not," Olivia answered, snapping her cell phone shut, "it seems the helicopter is having a few mechanical malfunctions. But we might as well take this stuff up there. They say they're in the middle of fixing it, but there's no need to take more time than we need."

"Try telling that to Walter," Peter muttered, and Astrid giggled softly.

"About your father," Olivia said, watching Walter in the distance, feeding pigeons the rest of his poppy seed muffin, "Will you be alright with him?"

"We'll be fine. I wouldn't expect us too terribly early, of course. You can't make plans with a crazy guy, am I right?" Peter and Astrid followed Olivia across the parking structure. Peter whistled sharply, and Walter looked up, dropping the rest of the muffin and catching up as he dusted his hands, "Anyways, I just want you to get there and hold the fort until we arrive. You know how this works- all kinds of evidence slips away, when we're not careful."

Walter took Astrid's bags from her as Olivia replied, "Make good time if you can, Peter. I also know that some of this stuff is time-sensitive."

They took the elevator up to the roof of the federal building and Peter briefly warned Walter to stay away from the edges, but stopped himself as Walter gripped the handrails of the elevator, looking nauseous. Astrid patted Walters' shoulder comfortingly. His father was frightened of heights.

The huge, white helicopter bore the blue markings of a private aircraft, but Peter knew it was for show, as their actions may have been watched. The large, overhanging propellers were immobile, and the craft looked something like a still dragonfly.

The pilot, a copper-haired woman in a grey jumpsuit and a headset, approached Olivia, extending a hand, "Dana Foeman, I'll be flying you today," She said, and paused, "Well, assuming this bird can make it…"

"What seems to be the problem?" Olivia asked, shaking her hand.

"William says it's only a slight wiring problem, nothing serious," Foeman answered, adjusting her large, dark sunglasses, "I just like my ride in top shape; I don't have room for 'temporary' problems."

"That's good to know," Olivia nodded, and she turned to Peter as he settled the baggage against the wall, "You two had better go on ahead. The more of a start you can get on us, the better."

Peter shook his head, "I'd like to see you off. I don't want you to end up stranded here, waiting for this mess to be settled out."

Aside, Walter extended his hand to Foeman, "Walter Bishop," he introduced himself as they shook hands, "Are you the operator of this precarious aviation apparatus?"

Foeman laughed, "Why, yes, Mr. Bishop, I am. Am I going to be flying you anywhere, today?"

"Um, no. I don't much like aircrafts," Walter answered, "Are you aware of just how unstable a helicopter can be, and how broad the spectrum is for pilot error, resulting in catastrophe?"

Foeman smiled, "Sounds like someone's asking for a tour."

"We're just waiting for the repairs," Olivia was protesting, "We don't have time to waste on trivial things, Peter. You know that."

"Of course I know that," Peter answered, "But I also know that nothing with this job makes any sense, so I guess I'm just going with the flow."

"It's not so scary now, is it?" Foeman smiled as Walter sat in pilot seat of the helicopter, his fingers gripping the controls lightly. His eyes were afire with curiosity as he burned the layout into his mind, his hands itching to touch, "A lot of people are intimidated by all the controls, but it's really pretty simple, when you get it down."

"I'll bet it is…" Walter mused absently, and he turned his attention back to Foeman, "Miss Foeman, this may seem a little odd, but I have no other way of saying this feasibly. I think you are hot."

"All I'm saying is that I care," Peter answered to Olivia's protests, "I'll gun it, if I have to. It's just wrong to leave you like this, okay?"

Olivia sighed, slightly irked and flummoxed, "Fine, have it your way. Have you got your copies of the case file?"

"Yes. I've been going over it when I can, and I try to hold Walter's attention as much as possible. I'm hoping he'll get more serious when he sees the physical evidence himself."

Foeman tapped her earpiece as she slipped her phone number into Walter's shirt pocket, "What's up, Willy? Okay, gimme a minute." She smiled at Walter, "Back in a second." And she headed for the pilots station.

Walter smoothed his pocket shut as he returned his attention to the interior of the cockpit, biting the side of his cheek thoughtfully.

Peter looked up from the roadmap he was showing Olivia to see Astrid checking her phone absently, and he paused in thought, "Astrid, where's…?" He looked over to see his father's form inside the helicopter, and Peter called, "Walter! Get out of there!" Walter obliged, climbing out and shutting the door, and Peter returned to the map.

Walter looked back over his shoulder, and spotted white smoke rising from the engine of the craft. He frowned in alarm, tilting his head, "Um," he said. The smoke continued to rise in billowing clouds, smelling of melted wiring. Walter moved to tug on Peter's sleeve, still watching the helicopter smolder, "Um, Peter."

"Not now, Walter."

Walter covered his mouth with his hand in worry, "Peter, the helicopter is smoking."

"Walter, stop it. Go bother Astrid."

Flames leapt from under the aircraft, and Walter jumped in alarm, "Peter, The helicopter is on fire."

"Lovely, Walter." Peter shrugged off his father's grip, growing vexed. Suddenly, Walter slapped the map from his hands, and Peter looked up, "Walter-" he snarled, before following Walter's trembling finger to the flaming helicopter. Peter's eyes widened, "Oh shi-"

"Down!" Olivia shouted, and they flattened themselves against the cement as the helicopter exploded, throwing fire and debris in the air.

Panting with the aftershock, Peter looked over at Olivia, "Observe. Glad I stayed, aren't you?"

xXx


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four.

"Well, you got to blow up a helicopter today," Astrid offered as she sat in the back of the car with Walter, who wrung his hands between his knees with distress, "Not everybody can say that. Talk about an icebreaker." Walter bowed his head in shame.

Olivia and Peter got into the front seat, shutting the doors without looking back at Walter. Peter started the engine as Olivia finally said, "Foeman said she'd pass it off as the faulty wiring, and not…_pilot error._ You'd better be glad- she saved your ass, Walter. This could have cost me my job, and then where would you be?"

"I'm-" Walter started woefully.

"Just never mind, Walter." Olivia snapped, and Walter bowed his head again, looking miserable, "We don't have time to wait around for another chopper to become available. We're driving to New Jersey."

Peter, Astrid and Walter all looked up at her in surprise, "_What_?" Peter exclaimed.

"Broyals' orders," Olivia grumbled, "Plans change so much, I'm happy he isn't just taking us off the entire thing. So I guess we're in this for the long run. Let's get going."

xXx

The car ride was virtually silent as they drove down the bleak, grey highway, all eight lanes a never-ending river of traffic, accented now and again with a big rig truck hauling a featureless white trailer. The hum of the engine felt like a drill to Peters' temple, and at last he reached over to the stereo; he'd installed a new one months before, replacing the tape deck and archaic speakers with his own selected MP3 system and subwoofers. He'd figured that if he had to drive a tuna boat, he at least had to have a better system put in. Classical piano spilled from the speakers with perfect clarity, and Peter turned it off, switching the function to radio and replacing it with classic rock.

_Gotta make a move to a town that's right for me…_

He glanced into the rearview mirror to see Walter watching him in return. Walter elevated a brow only slightly, and continued to share his frosted animal cookies with Astrid. Peter smiled- Walter would let him win, this time. His father did not enjoy even remotely contemporary music, preferring only classical. Peter supposed that Walter found the simplicity of modern music boring.

"Is this too loud?" Peter asked Olivia, and she did not look up from her paperwork as she shook her head.

"I work better with music," She added, pushing her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose. Peter watched her for a few moments from the corner of his eye, before her reached over to take to file from her, "What are you doing?" she smiled.

"I don't want you getting carsick," Peter answered with a grin, passing the papers over his shoulder to Walter, who hurriedly began to fold the first page.

"Give those back, Walter," Olivia laughed softly, reaching for them.

"Don't, Walter," Peter said, as his father ignored either hailing, "Olivia, lighten up. We've got a few days ahead of us- there's no need to wear yourself out now. Relax, for Christ's sake."

Olivia sighed, and Walter dropped a perfect origami swan into her outstretched hand, and he tossed the rest of the file into the back, returning to his cookies. Olivia settled back in her seat, raising a finger to stroke the paper bird on the head, "I guess," she said at last, and she stretched, "I am a little tired, now that you mention it." as a final sign of defeat, Olivia removed her glasses, slipping them back in to her bag.

Peter smiled, "Besides, we've got to start worrying about lunch soon. Any requests?" he looked into the rear view mirror.

"Sushi!" Astrid chirped, and Walter made a face at her.

"Onion rings," He retorted.

Astrid frowned, "Onion rings are greasy. Gross."

"All the more wonderful," Walter pointed out, "And a product of our great nation, thanks very much."

Astrid laughed with disbelief, "With the outcome of our great nation's rising obesity rate," she retaliated.

"I'm not eating raw fish and seaweed," Walter refused flatly, crossing his arms across his chest, "and if you insist on changing my opinion, consider it changed. I want a Philly cheese steak sandwich, Peter."

Astrid gaped, "Unbelievable! That's so disgusting!"

"May I have your telephone number?" Walter questioned.

xXx


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five.

Walter had retaliated to the semi-healthy Italian cuisine by eating a piece of chocolate cake, à la mode. Regardless of the satisfying look of horror on Astrid's face, he now found himself fidgety and restless with the belated sugar rush, and he drummed his knees with his fingertips in time with the music on the radio as he rocked back and fourth in the seat, peering out the window.

Unconsciously, he began to count telephone poles under his breath, then multiply them, then cube them, and at last his mind found solace in impervious thoughts of math theories, the chemical makeup of the creosote used on the telephone poles, and the smell of hot asphalt, all those years ago on the I5 to Los Angeles…

"Walter, you're babbling," Olivia warned him gently.

"Sorry," he answered distantly, continuing his mumbling.

"Why don't you take a nap?" Olivia suggested, "You've had a long day, so far." To his side, behind Olivia, Astrid slept peacefully, her cheek on the armrest.

Peter shook his head, "Nope. Walter doesn't sleep in the car. Tell her, Walter."

"I don't sleep in the car," Walter echoed tonelessly, striking out a piano chord on his kneecaps.

"Something about the engine keeps him awake," Peter explained to Olivia's puzzled look, "He told me that's why he bought this car. Something about the frequency keeping him alert."

Olivia looked impressed, "That's amazing," she admitted, glancing back at Walter, who continued to tilt and mutter, "…is he okay?"

"He's fine. He'll go on for a few hours-"

"I'm a _person_, not a _thing_," Walter snapped, "Please refer to me as such."

"Okay. Sorry," Peter said.

"Don't piss me off, Peter," Walter warned, his eyes narrowing. He had stopped rocking.

"I'm not-"

"You speak of me as if I am incapable of articulating my own opinions," Walter hissed, leaning forward in the seat to speak very softly, his syllables filled with venom, "Everyone always does that to me. My lawyer did that to me, and you see where that's gotten me. If I want communicate my feelings and thoughts, I do not need an interpreter."

Peter frowned into the mirror, "Do you know what, Walter? Sometimes I wish you would communicate less than you do anyways. Give us all a break from picking apart your stream of consciousness that is, let's face it, utter _nonsense_."

"Are you insinuating I am inept at drawing conclusive thought?!" Walter barked.

Astrid stirred and woke, and Olivia looked uncomfortable.

"Succinctly put," Peter answered fiercely.

"How dare you!" Walter cried, "I am not a child, and even if I am not in full possession of my faculties, I have every right to voice myself without your editing!"

"Good luck with that," Peter snapped, "I'm not your babysitter, Walter, and you are being completely unreasonable, right now."

"Fine!" Walter replied, "If I weren't-" Walter paused suddenly, his eyes drawn into those of his doppelgänger, peering soundlessly at him from his reflection on the window. He raised a hand to place it over his mouth, and was silent a few moments, before tearing his eyes away from his mimicry, "…I'm sorry, Peter," he said, "I-I think the sugar's gotten me in a terrible way…"

"Smart people argue funny," Astrid mused, settling back down to sleep again.

"Olivia," Walter asked gently, "If you would…please, reach into the glove compartment and hand me the silver cigarette case."

Obligingly, Olivia shuffled thought the glove box, retrieving the container. Walter took it from her with thanks and flipped it open, drawing out his medication. He palmed it, popping it into his mouth and swallowing it before he slipped the cigarette case into his breast pocket. He settled back, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths to quell his baseless rage, "I'm sorry, Peter," Walter repeated.

Peter watched the proceedings silently from the mirror, before he returned his eyes to the road, "No problem," he answered.

xXx

"Peter, do you want me to take the night shift?" Olivia offered as Peter began to rub his eyes tiredly, gazing at the flat strip of illuminated highway that seemed to stretch forever into the inky darkness of night.

"Ah, I'm fine," Peter answered, "I may need to stop for a cup of coffee in a while, though."

Olivia looked concerned, "Peter, you've been driving all day," She pointed out, "You've got to take a break some time."

Peter gave a small laugh, "Trust me, I've gone _way_ longer than this. New Jersey? Piece of cake." He spared a small glance at her for comfort, "Don't worry about me. Go ahead and sleep; I'll wake you if something comes up."

Worry crossing her features, Olivia settled back in the seat, nodding, "Okay." and she shut her eyes.

Peter made no noise, watching to see how long it took for Olivia to fall asleep. Soon, complete peace fell over her features, and he knew she was lost in dreams. Softly, Peter smiled, his own thoughts lost to the hum of the engine, seeming to quiet his feelings.

"She's beautiful," Walter said quietly.

"Yeah," Peter answered without looking into the mirror. He could feel his fathers' gaze, ever calculating him from the backseat. They were quiet for another few moments.

"It's as if the world only exists for her, isn't it? Like nothing else matters, while she sleeps."

Peter did not reply. He knew he was only confirming Walters' sentiments with his silence.

Walter shifted, propping his elbow on the armrest, "Such a tenderness of the heart makes everything seem ageless."

Peter smirked gently, "It's a wonder you don't work for Hallmark, Walter. Besides, you've got a little 'tenderness' of your own to deal with, back there."

Walter looked down at Astrid, sleeping peacefully in the curve of his shoulder, "She's only sleeping, Peter," he replied, "but I'll agree that she is also quite beautiful." he smiled distantly as Astrid shivered slightly, hiding her face against his warm collarbone. Walter folded his sweater around her shoulders, "She'll be quite embarrassed, when she awakens."

"We're pretty lucky, aren't we, Walter?" Peter grinned.

"I like to think so."

xXx


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six.

They had been driving for hours, and Peter at last found himself feeling hazy. He glanced around the dark cab, his ears feeling like they were stuffed with cotton, numb with the hum of the engine. Olivia was asleep in the off drivers' seat, and he could not bring himself to wake her, and Astrid in the back seat, still snoozing against Walter. His father, however, watched the dawn approaching over the distant horizon, his bright eyes unchanging. _Of course,_ Peter thought bitterly, _the nutcase doesn't sleep._

An idea began to take shape in Peter's slurred mind, and he shook his head back and fourth, trying to concentrate. The road was empty, there was no traffic, and they were miles from any place he could get a cup of coffee… "Walter," Peter called back softly.

"Yes, Peter?" Walter answered.

"…Could you drive, for a while?" Peter asked tiredly.

Walter looked confused for a few moments, "Me?" he questioned.

"Yeah. I just… I don't think I can keep this up, " Peter reasoned, rubbing his eye.

"Peter, I don't have a license," Walter said, "I'm afraid I haven't had the chance to renew, for a while now."

"I'm aware of that, Walter. But I can't stay awake."

Walter looked worried and uncomfortable for a few moments, "Alright, Peter," he answered at last.

"Thanks, Walter," Peter eased on the break, pulling the car to a stop. Olivia woke as Peter opened the door, the overhead light blinking on.

"What's going on?" She murmured, rubbing her eyes.

"Nothing," Peter answered as he stepped out, stretching. Astrid blinked awake as Walter touched her shoulder, and she resettled on her opposite armrest, falling asleep again. Walter traded places with Peter, climbing into the drivers' seat and buckling his seatbelt. Peter sighed contentedly, "Thanks, Walter," He murmured, closing his eyes.

"Is everyone wearing their seatbelt?" Walter questioned.

"Yes, Walter. Just drive."

"Don't worry, Peter. I'll wake you up."

Peter's eyes sprang open as he realized his error, "Oh-God- WALTER, NO-!"

Walter slammed the car into drive, the tires squealing deafeningly before they took traction, launching them onto the pavement with a crash. Laughing manically, Walter spun the wheel, gunning it down the strait away. Olivia and Astrid woke with a start as the car started into a drift around the narrow corner, and there was another screech as the back end slid out, rocketing them around the corner at a dangerously sharp angle. The engine began to roar as Walter accelerated, his hand flying over the gearshift. The smell of dust and burnt rubber filled the car.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Olivia demanded as Astrid let out a small cry of fear.

"Young lady, _seatbelt_," Walter said calmly, and she slammed the clip into place with trembling hands.

"Walter, stop!" Peter roared, clutching his fathers' shoulder around the seat.

"Wake up, Peter!" Walter said happily as he drifted around another corner, the back bumper clipping a side rail.

"Oh _GOD_!" Peter yelped, and Astrid screamed as they felt one side of the car lift, then crash back down.

"Walter, stop!" Olivia demanded.

"Calm yourself. It's not like I haven't done this before," Walter shifted, the engine giving a chirp as it climbed forward. There was a slight feeling of weightlessness as the car tipped over a dip, shaking the compartment. Luggage slammed in the trunk, "oh," Walter mused, reaching up to adjust the rearview mirror, "company."

Peter glanced over his shoulder, his mouth going dry as he saw the red and blue flashing lights of a police cruiser in the distance, "No- Walter, you have to stop! You'll get us killed, you crazy bastard!"

"You know I can't say no to you, Peter…" Walter slammed on the breaks, locking up the tires and sliding to a halt in the dirt. Hearts hammering, they stared breathlessly at Walter as he watched the police car slow to a halt behind them, his expression cool and calm, "I think I'm in trouble. Hmm." he turned in the seat, pushing Peter's head down to see out the back window. Suddenly he slammed the car into reverse, spraying dirt as they lurched back, past the patrol car, and he twisted the wheel sharply, the front end spinning around. He ground the gearshift, speeding forward, in the opposite direction of the officer, "Blackout!" Walter sang, killing his lights.

"_What are you doing?!" _Peter squeaked in disbelief.

"Blackout. If he can see my lights, He can find me. So no lights. I really must stress seatbelts…"

"What about break lights?!" Olivia stammered, struggling to possess her faculties in such a nightmarish situation.

Walter looked over at her, grinning.

"Oh Jesus…" Peter croaked, feeling himself beginning to hyperventilate, and his stomach churned.

"Oh, man up!" Astrid said, and Peter stared at her as she beamed, the same, devilish grin curving her lips, "I used to play this in college all the time! It's easy!"

"YOU'RE BOTH INSANE!" Peter cried.

"There's one, Walter! Flash your lights!" Astrid leaned over the drivers' seat, pointing.

"Oh, very nice. I hadn't seen that one." Walter flashed the high beams twice, the glare blinding from the back of the patrol car. Walter spun a u-turn as the cruiser started with lights and siren, blaring after them, "Tag," Walter smiled, and Astrid laughed, "now, to loose…" he shut off the lights again, accelerating into the dark.

"'Tag'?! What the hell is 'tag'?!"

"Come now, Peter, you weren't _that_ deprived, as a child. I 'tagged' the patrol car, and now the patrol car is 'it'. If I'm caught, I'm 'it'. And so fourth. It's quite simple, really; Belly and I would play, when work was dead."

"If you're _caught_, you'll go to _prison_!" Olivia shouted.

"You're confidence in my ability is staggering," Walter grumbled, pulling the car into a side road and stopping as the patrol car sped past on the highway, "I was unaware this game continued, in the later generations. An enlightening bit of information, Miss Astro."

"Mental sickness is often mimicked with alcohol!" Peter snapped, "Stop this right now, Walter!"

Walter's hand stilled over the gearshift, "…are you awake?"

"Yes, for the love of _god_, yes!" Peter was trembling with adrenaline, any trace of his exhaustion erased, "Just stop the damn car!"

"Good. We're out of gas." The engine sputtered and died.

xXx


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven.

Footwork was slow going, down the gravel side of the empty highway, lugging a Jerri can against his hip. His angry breath fogged in the air, but his anger made him far from cold. Olivia knew his body language well enough to refrain from inciting conversation, and they walked, side-by-side, in silence. Peter's embittered thoughts found only his father, an image of a mentally detached old man snoozing quietly on the warm hood of the Vista Cruiser.

He kicked at a rock angrily.

"Unbelievable!" He cried furiously, as a patrol car slowed beside them.

The car flashed its lights, and Peter and Olivia paused as the trooper rolled down his window, grinning slyly around his gum, "Morning," he said with mock-cheerfulness, "You two lovebirds out for a morning walk?"

Olivia stopped Peter before he could rip the officer out of the car and beat him savagely, "Good morning. Our car is out of gas- could you possibly give us a ride to a station?"

The officer looked ever-more amused, "Well, that depends, miss," he said, tipping back the brim of his hat, "You two wouldn't happen to have seen a blue Vista Cruiser around, would you? They've been running around all night, causing all sorts of havoc." he waited, intently, for Olivia's reply.

"Can't say we have, Olivia answered, "Could you possibly point us in the _direction_ of the station?"

"Olivia…" Peter growled lowly.

The officer looked over at his partner, and they laughed.

Peter started forward, but his motions were stilled as Olivia drew out her wallet, flashing her badge, "Olivia Dunham, FBI," she snapped, "I'm afraid I'm going to need to apprehend this vehicle, gentlemen."

A wide grin spread across Peters' face, and suddenly he realized- he loved this woman.

xXx

There was a scuffling as he rolled from the hood, hitting the dirt on all fours. Astrid looked up in alarm as he uttered a deep, guttural cry of horror, "Walter…?"

"It-it's on me!" he cried, and Astrid scrambled out of the car to find him staring at his own hands, his eyes wide and white with fear, "It's all over me-!"

"Walter, what-"

"GET IT OFF ME!" Walter screamed, and tore open his shirt, sending buttons flying as he flung it away, reaching around his shoulders to pull his white tee-shirt over his head.

"Walter!" Astrid cried, trying to still him as he rose, tearing wildly at his exposed flesh, "Walter, stop! You're hurting yourself-!"

Blood flew from the gashes under his fingers, "IT WON'T COME OFF! GET IT OFF OF ME!"

"_Get what off of you_?!" Astrid demanded.

He looked up, panting as tears welled in his eyes, "The blood."

Astrid took his face in her hands, staring directly into his eyes, "Walter, _wake up_. It was just a dream. There's no blood, okay?"

Uttering a small, frightened sob, Walter slowly nodded.

"Man, you scared me," Astrid sighed, pulling him into a hug, "Don't do stuff like that, okay? It was just a dream, alright?"

"I'm sorry," Walter choked. He was trembling.

Astrid leaned away, brushing his cheek with her palm in a motherly gesture, "It's okay. Come on, let's get some Band-Aids." she took his hand and lead him back to car, like a small child.

Walter sat on the open tailgate as Astrid applied the bandages, cleaning each of the scratches with stinging peroxide before smoothing a small adhesive strip over them. Walter said nothing as she tended his shoulders, and he delved into his medication again, "Turn," She said at last, and began to treat his chest.

"Um, miss…"

"Astrid."

"Miss Astrid, could I perhaps ask a favor?" Walter questioned quietly.

"Shoot," she readied another peroxide swab, dabbing it across his wound, revealing pink flesh under the blood.

Walter winced slightly at the sting, "Could you…not tell Peter and Olivia about this?"

Astrid glanced up at him, then returned to her work, shrugging a shoulder.

"It's just that… they think I'm getting better. I want them to think they're doing a good job, with me…"

"Are you?" Astrid asked, "Getting better, I mean."

Walter bit his lip, shaking his head.

An immense look of sadness settled over Astrid's face, and she touched his cheek again, "Oh, Walter…"

"I-I want to get better," Walter insisted, "I'm trying, I really am. It's just that…may I be honest with you, miss Asper?"

"Of course," Astrid replied, ignoring his slip.

"I think I'm getting worse. There are times…that I can't control myself. I don't know what I'm doing, like just now. I'm frightened."

"Do you think you need help?" Astrid asked gently, and Walter pulled a fresh undershirt over his shoulders.

Walter gazed silently at his hands for a few moments, examining the blood on his cuticles, "I know I do. But I can't go back to St. Claire's… I don't want to go back. But, just so you know… this is why I act the way I do. And for that, I am sorry."

They both jumped in alarm as a squad car siren gave a chirp, and the black-and-white vehicle slowed to a stop behind them. Peter's voice suddenly blared over the loudspeaker, "Step away from the vehicle," he said, and laughed.

"You _stole_ a patrol car?!" Astrid exclaimed as Olivia stepped out of the police cruiser, toting a Jerri can.

"I _knew_ you were my son!" Walter beamed, approaching and resting his elbows on the off driver's windowsill, peering inside, "I must admit, I had my doubts. No, I didn't. I'm 99.9 percent certain of your lineage- but there's always room for speculation, you know."

"Can it, Walter," Peter replied, "We're just borrowing it."

Walter nodded, tracing the door lock with his fingertip, "It looks fast."

"_Hell no_, you can't drive it," Peter answered flatly.

xXx


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter eight.

"Goodbye, Mr. police person…"

"Walter, stop waving. They're already pissed, okay?"

"Let him wave, they can't do anything. I'm a federal agent- while being mostly a dull job, it has its perks," Olivia said smugly as Peter pulled back onto the road, leaving the two officers to their recently returned cruiser, "besides, I gave them a choice. They shouldn't have been dicks."

"That's how you start down a bad road," Peter pointed out, "abusing your power over others. Next you'll start doing favors, getting into shady deals…"

"Speak with experience," Olivia retaliated pointedly, "and, speaking of a bad road, what could possibly have possessed you to let Walter, of all of us, _drive_?"

Peter looked uncomfortable, and Walter snickered mockingly, "Shut it, crazy," he grumbled, glaring at the road ahead.

"I'm hungry," Astrid interrupted, "How's about breakfast?"

A roadside café provided them with a breakfast that sat like lead on their stomachs, and Walter with a hastily scrawled telephone number on his napkin, signed by a waitress named Janet.

Peter stopped at a gas station to refuel, and stepped inside with Olivia to the convenient store to purchase a few things, and they returned to the car.

"I don't see the point of this game," Walter was saying flatly.

"It's Mad-libs," Astrid explained, "There is no right answer. It's supposed to be funny- one of the greatest road games of all time."

"How can inserting a quantity of jumbled words into a perfectly ordinary paragraph be even remotely amusing?" Walter replied unenthusiastically.

"Never mind," Astrid grumped, cramming the notebook back into her side bag.

"Let's play tick-tack-toe."

"Peter," Olivia stopped him as he returned the gas nozzle to the station, "Really- why didn't you wake Astrid or I to drive?"

Peter paused, thinking over his reply carefully, "… have you ever watched anyone sleep?"

Olivia looked confused.

Peter shook his head, clicking the nozzle into place, "It won't make any sense until you watch someone sleep."

"I've seen someone sleep," Olivia protested, following him toward the station door, "What's your point?"

"Someone you _care_ about," Peter said, "If you had, you'd know exactly what I'm talking about."

Olivia's comments were interrupted as a car horn blared in across the empty station, and she and Peter both jumped, looking back at the station wagon. The blaring stopped, and Walter looked around, embarrassed, sinking down in his seat and out of view. Astrid removed her fingers from her ears. Peter smiled at Olivia, "Let's go."

xXx

Walter watched silently as his son slept, as if any noise he made would wake him from his dreams and he would start to cry, like when he was a child. "Walter," Olivia asked at last from the front seat, and he glanced up into the mirror in warning, and she dropped her voice, "Where do you want to eat?"

Walter shook his head quickly, returning his eyes to Peter, sleeping softly in the seat across from himself. He did want to eat. He was terribly hungry. But it would wake him. So Walter would suffer, if it meant watching him for only a few moments longer.

Olivia turned her attention to Astrid in the off drivers' seat, "Okay. Any requests, Astrid?"

"Any where. I've got to stretch my legs, I've lost all feeling in them."

Walter started in alarm as Olivia pulled onto an off ramp, a slight bump jarring Peter. He did not wake, and Walter breathed once more. He was unaware that they had stopped, until Olivia opened his door, asking, "Are you coming?"

Walter chanced a glance back at Peter, and nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out to shut the door softly. He walked beside Olivia and Astrid across the parking lot with his hands in his pockets, "He was such a light sleeper, when he was a child," he explained, "I couldn't make a noise, when I watched him. I guess I'm just falling back into practice."

"Why do you watch him?" Olivia asked, realization crossing her features, "Peter was saying something about sleeping this morning; do you know what he was talking about?"

Walter stopped in mid step, looking at her. "You've never…?"

Olivia paused, "Never _what_, Walter? What is it, a family secret, or something?"

"Did you ever watch John sleep?" he questioned suddenly.

"I- I don't think that's any of your business-" Olivia stammered.

Walter grabbed her by the wrist, tugging her back to the car. Astrid watched them, looking at a complete loss, "Look at him," Walter whispered quietly, motioning to Peter's sleeping form, "Tell me what you see."

"Peter…sleeping?"

Walter shook his head, "I cannot describe it to you," he whispered, "I cannot make you see what I see, when I look at my son. I don't think there are even words to describe just what I see. But when you love someone…truly love them…sleep is like watching an angel die."

Olivia looked up at Walter, and he could sense a slight desperation as she struggled to understand his sentiments, "I don't understand…Walter…"

A slight breeze shifted her hair, and Walter touched her cheek, his eyes distant as the gears of his mind seemed to grind to a halt for a fleeting moment, "You haven't seen it, then. I'm very sorry. He sees it in you, you know." Walter turned away, "It's a perfect thing, really. But I'm quite crazy, so you probably shouldn't be asking me much of anything." he started toward Astrid, pushing his hands back into his pockets, ignoring his staring doppelganger as he passed.

xXx

Peter blinked away from his drowsy haze of sleep, returning to his senses as he sat up in the seat, wiping drool from the side of his mouth, grimacing, "Gross…"

The car was stopped outside a small convenient store, and it was night, and raining. The blue security lights were smeared through the blotchy windows, and his eyes slowly adjusted to see his father watching him from across the cab, sipping silently from an ice squeezy. Peter rubbed his eyes, swallowing the dry in his mouth, "What flavor is that?" he asked at last.

"Cherry," Walter answered, "Are there any other flavors?"

"Lemme have a sip," Peter requested, and Walter obliged, "Where are Olivia and Astrid?"

"Rest room," Walter replied, and Peter returned his drink to him, "Are you hungry? I picked up some takeout for you; you were sleeping, and-"

"Maybe in a minute, Walter," Peter replied, holding up a hand to silence him, "I've gotta pee. When Olivia gets back, tell her I'm driving." Peter kicked open the door, before something smacked against his chest.

"Umbrella," Walter said and Peter looked back at him, taking the outstretched apparatus. Walter smiled slightly, "It's raining out there."

Shaking his head, Peter stepped out, opening the umbrella and shutting the door.

Peter avoided the glossy puddles on the asphalt as he entered the pit stop, avoiding any interaction as he made his way to the restroom. After a few uneventful moments of reading misspelled hand script on a wall, he found his way back outside, spotting Olivia and Astrid, "Hey!" he called, catching up, "what are you guys-"

"Peter, did you move the car?" Olivia questioned, squinting at him through the rain.

"What? No, I just woke up. You didn't leave the keys with Walter, did you?"

"Aw, jeez…" Astrid said, covering her eyes with her hand, and Peter frowned with confusion. Olivia jingled the keys before him.

"Peter," Olivia said with a dry mouth, "I think someone stole the car."

xXx


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter nine.

Walter was silent for the first few miles, finding himself entertained at the fact that he and his car had just been stolen. It was an interesting change to see the face of a distraught young woman in the rearview mirror, rather than the face of one of his numerous companions. It was amusing, until he realized the awkwardness of his situation- he'd never been good, with new people…"Where are we going?" he asked at last.

The strange girl gave a small scream, swerving on the highway, "Jesus Christ!" she cried, gaining control of the vehicle once more, "Who the hell are you?!"

"My name is Walter Bishop," he answered, offering his hand over the seat, "This is my Vista Cruiser, actually. But I'm not allowed to drive it, anymore."

"Is this some kind of trick?" she snapped, glancing around nervously, "Like, a new, lame TV show, or something? Are you a cop?!"

"No. I'm a doctor," he paused, "Well, assuming you could call it that."

"I'm… Tina," she said, shaking his hand quickly.

"A lovely name," Walter agreed, dropping his hand, "Would it be alright if I moved up front?"

Tina glanced into the rearview mirror nervously, "Okay," she said at last, "But… don't try anything, or I'll kick your ass out on the freeway, got it?"

"Fair enough. I wouldn't want to upset a violent, desperate criminal," he unbuckled his seatbelt, slipping between the two front seats to sit shotgun, buckling his seatbelt again.

"I'm not a criminal!" Tina protested, then paused, seeming ashamed, "I mean, I'm desperate, but I'm not…" she fell silent under Walter's gaze, "I just had to get out of there, okay?"

"I'm easy," Walter shrugged, "I'm only sorry Peter and the others will be worried about me."

"Who?"

"Peter is my son, the one that drives this automobile, since I cannot. You remind me of him, a bit. It's quite easy to confuse you both with my antics- that, and the breaking the law thing…" he shrugged, "but I try not to judge."

Tina looked over at him, and he caught the sheen of a scab on her chin, the shadows hiding her black eye, "Why do you talk like that?"

Walter raised a brow, "Like what?"

"All…complicated and confusing and stuff?"

Walter considered, "Because…'under this rough, rebellious exterior is a deep, sensitive guy, capable of feelings and fears'?" he quoted hopefully.

"What?" Tina questioned flatly

"I don't know, it was something Peter said," Walter replied.

"It sounds pretty cheesy."

"That's what I thought. But apparently it works- times have changed, I must say." They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the windshield wipers.

"I'm sorry I stole your car," Tina said at last.

"Your remorse is kind. But you still haven't informed me of our destination."

Tina sighed with determination, "New York."

"Oh, how exiting. What's in New York?"

"I can tell you what isn't," Tina replied, passing a car, "_Phil_."

Walter mulled her words for a few moments, "…Who's Phil?"

"My mom's boyfriend," Tina answered immediately, her voice thick with venom, "bastard. I fucking hate him."

"Is he the one who hits you?" Walter asked quietly, carefully observing her expression. He briefly wondered if Peter's resentment had ever reached such a level, during his absence.

Tina glared at the road, "Yeah. But it's not like anyone cares. If you're weak…you're nothing." it sounded like a mantra she had repeated countless times.

Walter nodded, "Sounds awful."

"It is," Tina agreed, "that's why I'm getting the hell out of here." they were silent for a few more minutes, before she asked, "What about you? Where were you going?"

"New Jersey. I'm dong some work for the FBI, actually," he saw her tense at the mention of authority, "some… viral mayhem, it seems."

"Do you work at a hospital?" Tina asked.

Walter chuckled, "I am not a medical doctor, although I do hold a doctorate in the field. I hold a lot of doctorates. But no, observe the distinction- I work in a laboratory at Harvard."

"Holy shit," Tina exclaimed, "what the hell are you doing way out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"I've just told you, I'm on my way to New Jersey," Walter repeated, wondering if she was listening as she kept glancing over her shoulder at the other cars, "although it now appears I have been re-routed, which is interesting."

"Will your son be worried?" Tina asked.

"Oh, he'll be furious," Walter corrected, chuckling, "But it is nice to wonder if he's thinking of me. I wrap myself with a false sense of self-worth."

"Does he like you?"

Walter was quiet for a few moments, "No, I don't think so. I believe I'm more of an obligation, at this point."

"He's your kid- why wouldn't he like you?" Tina asked.

"Why do you dislike Phil?" Walter asked pointedly.

"He's a bastard- all he does is get drunk and take shit out on me. What about you? 'You hit your kid?" Tina took the freeway onramp, glancing over to see if Walter would tell her to stop. He did not.

Thoughts of his own abuse as a child flicked across his mind, and his heart began to race in his chest, his stomach seizing with distant fear. He looked out the window, his mouth tasting of tears, "No," he replied, silently struggling to calm himself, "but I've hurt him."

"How?" Tina said, a hint of contempt in her voice.

Walter shook his head, swallowing.

"'You want me to boot your ass out of the car? I _am_ a criminal- tell me, or take a hike off the overpass," Tina snapped.

"I've been in a federal asylum for seventeen years," Walter answered quietly.

"Asylum? Like, crazy house? You're crazy, Walter?"

Glumly, Walter nodded, "I was institutionalized when Peter was seven. He… grew up without me, which is probably best, but those years until then… I did things, _tests_, but I was only trying to…" he shook his head, "I don't deserve him. I should be back at St. Clair's."

xXx

Peter was drenched with freezing rainwater as he returned from searching the parking lot, asking anyone if they had seen where the vehicle had gone. So far, nothing. His mind did not know what to think, as he listened to the rain batter off of the umbrella his father had given him only moments earlier.

Both Astrid and Olivia looked anxious and worried as he shook his head in defeat, "What if we call him?" Astrid questioned, vocalizing the silent option.

Peter shook his head, "Nope. Walter doesn't carry a cell, even if he knew how to use one."

"And we can't track the car, because it isn't a government vehicle," Olivia said, "God damn it, how could this have happened?!"

"Don't sweat it, I'm sure Walter's fine," Peter replied, calming her with a hand on her shoulder, "He may be an idiot, sometimes, but he's far from defenseless."

"I've got a bulletin out to all patrol cars in the vicinity," Olivia sighed, "They can't afford to put up a perimeter in this kind of weather, but I'm sure they'll come up with something."

"So… we just have to wait?" Astrid asked, frowning wearily.

"I'm afraid so," Olivia responded, rubbing her eyes tiredly, "but we can't just wait around here like this. I've got a car coming around to bring us to the station, we can wait this mess out there."

Peter scratched his chin, grumbling to himself; "You nonsensical bastard, what have you gotten yourself into, now?!"

The small police outpost provided them all with a cup of coffee, and the liberty of a shower. Peter watched the clock on the wall above the door silently, his mind numb with exhaustion as Olivia and Astrid plucked at a glazed donut carelessly. Peter wondered briefly how his father was fairing, as he had had only minute sleep since the start of their hellish trip…

A nightshift guard rattled the door open, "You're the folks after the blue Vista Cruiser, right?" he questioned.

The trio sat up in their seats, "Yes," Peter replied.

The policeman frowned, "We got reports of the same vehicle running around last night. Ridiculous teens steal cars for a joyride in the middle of the night, drive 'em a few counties off, and dump 'em."

"Yes, but there's someone we know _in_ the car, when it was stolen," Olivia clarified, "has anything like this ever happened?"

The officer looked concerned, "You're saying that this person was carjacked?"

Peter shook his head, "No. Listen. My father was in the car when it was stolen, and we have reason to believe he may have been unwillingly kidnapped by the thief."

"How can someone unwillingly kidnap someone?"

Peter smiled darkly, "You don't know my father."

The officer sighed, "Alright. I'll see what I can do; all's I'm saying is that you folks might be better off staying in a motel for the rest of the night. This might take a while."

xXx


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten.

"So, what would you do, if you were me?" Tina asked after a few miles of silence.

Walter raised his eyebrows, "I was under the impression that I had informed you of my psychological precariousness, thusly ruling my comments void."

"Well, yeah," Tina said uncomfortably, "but…you're a doctor. You're smart. What would you do?"

Walter pondered a few moments, "Shoot Phil," he replied.

She snorted, "Are you serious?" she questioned, "I'd have never taken you for a an axe murderer."

"Not an axe. A revolver, preferably."

"Why?" Tina asked.

Walter frowned with concentration, "…I don't know. It just reminds me of something I've heard before. Some girl did just that…oh, yes, Olivia. Nice girl, you'd like her."

"Who's Olivia?" Tina asked. She had relaxed quite a bit, thinking the finalization of her crime behind her as they crossed county lines, Walter presumed.

"The agent I work with. A background much like yours, only younger. She shot her stepfather, I think. Very sad. But she's a good seed, I can see why Peter likes her." Walter opened the glove compartment, shuffling in it in search of candy he may have missed.

"…Did she kill him?" Tina asked.

Walter shook his head, "No, I don't believe so. He's still out there." He exclaimed as he found a peppermint, and paused, offering it to Tina, "Would you like this?"

Tina shook her head, and Walter shrugged, unwrapping the candy and popping it into his mouth, "when we get to New York," Tina said quietly, "Um… you can have the car back."

"Thank you. Are you certain you don't want to drive to Staten Island and light it on fire? I hear they do that, now. In which case, I _would_ prefer to remove the luggage from the trunk. Then I'll help, if you want."

Tina shook her head, and Walter realized there were tears in her eyes, "Walter, I don't know what I'm doing," She confessed.

Walter busied himself with the glove compartment once more.

"I don't know where I'm going. I just had to get out of there- I don't even know where I'm going to stay, in New York. I don't know anybody, I dropped out of school… I just don't know what I-"

Walter paused from his musing of the dashboard, "Would you like me to kill Phil?" he questioned.

Tina looked shocked as her mascara ran down her cheeks, washing away the cover-up to reveal bruises, "What?!"

"Would you like me to kill Phil?" Walter repeated tonelessly.

"What-I- No! Why would you-?!" She stammered, growing angry, "That's not fucking funny!" she fell silent as he watched her, his cold blue gaze unwavering, "…You're serious. Holy shit, Walter- you are crazy."

"You can't do it yourself," Walter reasoned darkly, "Olivia couldn't either. But if you asked, I would do it. I am quite soulless, when it comes to such things."

"Why would you say something like that?!" Tina cried, hurriedly rubbing the tears away from her face, "_How_ could you say something like that?! What is wrong with you?!"

Walter smirked slightly with his ominous reply, "I'm a sociopath. I rather enjoy killing myself; bad people, rotten in their souls."

"Walter, you're scaring me," Tina warned, chancing a frightened glance at him.

"That's just because you're sane," Walter assured her, settling back in his seat and sucking his mint, "but if it upsets you so, I'll let my offer pass." They sat in silence again.

"You would do that for me?" Tina said quietly.

Walter glanced at her, and nodded.

Tina nodded in return, slowing the car to take the off ramp, heading back in the direction they had come, "I don't think I'm sane either," Tina said gruffly, the rainwater reflecting in her eyes like tears in the glare of the headlights.

Walter felt his lips pull back from his teeth in a half-grin, half-snarl, like a predator showing its fangs in a gleeful display of power.

xXx

An incessant knocking on the hotel room door woke him. The knocking had turned to kicking, when he scrambled out of bed, stumbling over to open the door, "Hello…?" Peter questioned groggily.

"Hello, son," Walter replied softly. He pushed past Peter, into the room.

Peter blinked, and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he were dreaming, "Walter? What the hell…? What…?"

Walter tumbled onto the bed, jamming his thumb into his mouth as he curled into the fetal position, staring across the room at the wall.

"Walter, you're soaking wet," Peter said, stooping over him, "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Don't touch me," Walter hissed, slapping away the hand on his shoulder. He returned to sucking his thumb, glaring at nothing.

"Oh…kay," Peter replied. He moved to the window, pushing aside the curtains to look down at the car, parked in the nearly empty parking lot, "How did you…?" He turned to look back at his father.

Walter slept with his hands over his face, to hide the tears that escaped his eyes in his slumber.

xXx

"Walter…?" Astrid leaned over the listless doctor, touching his chest gently. His face twitched in his slumber, and Astrid flinched away, "Do I _have_ to do this…?" she asked uneasily.

"He's attacked everyone else we've sent in," Olivia answered hastily from the doorway with Peter, "Just… poke him, or something!"

Wincing slightly, Astrid touched his chest again, "Um, doctor Bishop…?"

She was not fast enough to dodge his hand, as his fingers snapped around her wrist, his grip like iron. Astrid gave a small squeak, struggling away, but Walter overpowered her, hauling her onto the mattress beside him, holding her securely around the waist, "Coffee," He demanded without opening his eyes, "Coffee, and I let the girl go. Failure to meet my demands may result in casualties."

Olivia and Peter smiled quickly at one another, "We're on it," Peter answered, and the two darted away.

"Hey!" Astrid cried after them, "Help, dammit!" she swallowed, addressing Walter, "You're not going to inject me with something again, are you?"

He had fallen asleep again, his grip unwavering. "Walter…?" Astrid questioned, pushing on his arm.

"Shush." He mumbled.

"Your hands are covered with dirt!" Astrid exclaimed, repulsed.

"Dried mud," Walter corrected, "Now shush, I'm trying to sleep. Has anyone ever told you how comfortable you are…?"

Astrid squeaked again, struggling as a blush washed over her face. Soon, she settled back, sighing with spent effort, "Fine, you win," she grumbled. She crossed her arms across her chest, frowning at his arm around her middle, "What happened last night, anyways?" She grumped.

"You're the one in my bed, you tell me."

Astrid stuck him on the forehead with a laugh.

"Attempting to raise the white flag," Olivia called into the room, the Styrofoam coffee cup before her as a shield.

"Enter," Walter replied. He opened his eyes at last, sighing as he squinted, "I wish the world would just _shut up_, sometimes…"

"How are you feeling?" Olivia asked as he sat up, releasing Astrid as he took the cup, sipping carefully on the hot beverage.

"Alright."

Peter took a seat on the bed, checking his father's vitals, "I think he's just exhausted, Olivia," Peter mused, "But I'm sorry to say that we don't have the time to spend here. Every second we waste here is more time for that pattern case to just slip away."

"I was unaware my health was deemed trivial," Walter grumbled into his coffee.

"Hey, you don't get to say anything until you tell us what the hell happened last night," Peter replied sharply.

Walter watched his coffee in deep thought for a few moments, and sighed, "I've come to a decision, Peter. Perhaps you can help with this, Agent Dunham… after this is all over, this case in New Jersey… I-I want to go back to St. Claire's."

"No!" Astrid exclaimed suddenly, and Peter and Olivia sat in stunned silence.

"_I am not well_!" Walter hissed defensively, "And- and it's my decision! I get very little choices, and you cannot deny me this time!"

"You can't go back," Peter said quietly at last, "Now stop screwing around and get dressed. Everybody out." he rose, and left the room.

"You're not going to ignore me this time, Peter!" Walter called after him, "You're not in my head! You don't know what I do!"

"Walter, no…" Astrid whispered, tugging on his elbow.

"Come on, Astrid," Olivia said softly, leading her out of the room. The door shut with a pathetically submissive click.

Walter sat, glaring over at his smiling doppelgänger, "What are you smirking at, you son of a bitch?! I'm not _you_ anymore!" he flung the cup of coffee at nothing with an agitated bark. He covered his face with his hands with a mournful sigh, "I'm not you anymore."

xXx


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter eleven.

The morning passed without so much as a comment, but Peter could not bring himself to look at his father, whom only glared at the seat in front of him. Cold rage boiled below the surface of Peter's calm disposition, his jaw tight and his eyes steely. Olivia seemed to share his icy sentiments, watching the passing scenery with unseeing bitterness. Astrid only watched Walter, hurt confusion shaping her delicate features.

Strangely, it was Walter to break the silence, "Stop the car," he said quietly.

Peter ignored him.

"Stop the car," his voice was grainy with strain to remain composed.

Peter continued to stare ahead on the road, and Olivia and Astrid watched each of the Bishops in turn, uncertain of what to do.

"_Please_ stop the car."

"I never give you any choices, Walter," Peter replied, "why would I change that now?"

Walter crossed his arms across his chest, settling back in the seat to work his jaw in angry silence.

Both looked up as Olivia began to laugh coldly, "Look at you two!" she exclaimed scornfully, addressing them each in turn, "Peter, the big man to burn off his elderly and insecure father. And Walter, fallen genius, throwing a fit that would make a five-year-old proud. What next? Are you going to threaten to turn the car around, Peter? Are you going to kick the back of the seat, Walter? Get a grip, both of you. Talk like _adults_, for Chrissake."

Both seemed shocked by her comments, then, abashed. They were quiet for a while, and Olivia struck a stray lock of hair from her face, sighing at the dashboard.

"What happened, last night?" Peter asked quietly.

"Nothing," Walter answered.

"Bullshit. Yesterday, you would have gleefully burned St. Claire's to cinders. Today you can't wait to hop back into a strait jacket. What the hell happened?"

"I almost killed a man," Walter said softly. Astrid issued a small gasp, and Olivia's eyes widened as she looked back at him. Walter gazed thoughtfully at his own hands, folded in his lap. His face tightened as he plead, "But I didn't, Peter. You have to believe me that I didn't. I stopped myself, before… there-there was this girl, and she was running away, and he was hitting her, and I grabbed what I could- th-the saw in the trunk, and I-" Walter was trembling uncontrollably as he babbled on loudly, tears flooding his eyes, "He-he just kept hitting her, and I grabbed him, I started on his clavicle, the laceration spanning… he was screaming, and she was screaming for me to stop… she just wanted to scare him, and I-I just- _I wanted to kill him_."

"Walter," Olivia said, touching his shoulder, and he flinched away, hiding his face, "Calm down, Walter. The man- what happened to him? Where is he?"

"He's with her," Walter answered, his voice muffled, "I don't understand! She asked me to do it, she said yes! But she stayed with him, she even cried, with her eyes swollen and bloody- she told me to go, to take the car… and I just drove!"

"Back to the hotel?" Olivia said calmly, "back to the hotel, to see Peter? Do you remember seeing Peter?" her voice was gentle, as if coxing a frightened animal into trust.

"No," Walter croaked, "I buried the saw. I sat in the rain for a while. I was afraid, Peter… I was afraid that I would hurt you, if I came back. I want to go to a place where I can't hurt you, Peter," His eyes were wide and glazed with tears as he stared up, into the rearview mirror, in desperate search of his son's eyes, "please take me back."

"You can't go back," Peter answered coldly, "I told you not to even ask. So stop crying."

"But Peter-" Walter begged, grasping for the back of his son's seat.

"_Enough_, goddamn it!" Peter roared, a tear batting his own collar, "Just shut the hell up! Stop asking for what you don't want!" his voice seemed to choke in his throat, and he swallowed, glaring ahead, "Selfish son of a bitch. You're not even going to give me a chance, are you?"

"Peter-"

"You didn't kill him, did you? What stopped you, eh? Why didn't you just have a grand old time, huh?! Seventeen goddamn years, and you just want to go slinking back to your cell?! Why the hell did you wait, Walter?! Why didn't you just _die_ in there?!"

"I-I wanted-"

"I know what you wanted, dumbass. You wanted another chance. But chances aren't free, Walter; of everyone, I know that. You've got to fight for everything, or the world just goes to shit, alright? So if you want to curl up cozy with a fistful of medication in a padded cell, be my guest. But just know I'm never going to come back for you. No matter how things go to hell, I'll leave you to _rot_."

Walter was quiet for a few moments, and a smile slowly spread across his face, obscuring a path for the tears, "… well, I don't think I could stand any more butterscotch pudding, really."

Peter gave a small laugh, "What color is the sky, in your world?"

"Reality is overrated," Walter replied smugly.

xXx

"When we get to New Jersey, I would like to watch _He-Man and the Masters of the Universe_."

"When we get to New Jersey, I want to watch the back of my eyelids. I don't give a crap what you do," Peter replied from across the table.

"Don't worry, Walter, you can come and watch it in mine and Olivia's room," Astrid assured him with a smile, patting his forearm.

Peter raised his eyebrows, "Well, maybe I will get in on this…"

Olivia laughed as Walter rattled the ice in his tea glass, seeming mildly concerned that it was empty, "As if, Peter," Olivia murmured, brandishing her fork, "You've got to know the password, and it's secret."

"Are you sure? Can't I charm it out of you with my devilishly good looks?" Peter grinned, crossing his fork with hers.

Olivia shook her head with a smile, "Not even. I'm trained to be immune."

"So you _do_ admit my good looks?"

"Peter," Walter said, breaking him from his previous engagement, "may I be excused for just a moment?"

"Sure- wait, _why_?"

Walter smirked, pointing to his right with a wink. A lone, shapely brunette sat at the empty bar, unheeding of her surroundings. Peter snorted, "You're kidding me, right?"

Walter shook his head, stirring his ice one more time before rising. Olivia and Astrid looked curious and slightly alarmed, and Peter laughed quietly as his father sauntered away, mocking his son's overconfident stride.

Walter settled quietly at the bar, a seat away from the girl. Walter took a quick glance at her, before ordering another iced tea. His mind whirred with analysis; hair- loose. Probably colored, and straitened. She placed a great deal of thought into her appearance, even if her carelessly selected tank-top and jeans cried otherwise. The top indicated her willingness to sacrifice comfort for attention; she was single, and looking. Probably recently single- her eyeliner tipped up at the ends, giving her a seductress' gaze. Definitely looking, as if her last relationship had ended sourly. Perhaps he had mistreated her, run around...

Walter sighed. This may prove a challenge. But, unlike his son, he could spot a lost cause, and however remote; if he spun his yarn correctly, he just might have a chance. The trick was not to frighten her away- he was quite a bit older, and this would have been a synch, in his youth… had he not spent every waking moment in a basement.

But trivial matters, trivial matters.

Peter would do, for his in. He had to use _something_.

"May I have some sugar?" he asked the girl softly, and she looked up, her expression reminding him of a spooked deer.

A small, exasperated smile touched her face, "Excuse me?"

Offence, jumping to conclusions. She really thought quite a bit of herself, "The sugar," he repeated, indicating to the dispenser to her right, then to his tea, "There is none over here, I'm afraid."

"Oh," she said in realization, and slid the sugar to him, seeming awkward, "there you go."

"Thanks very much," Walter gave her what he hoped was a winning smile. It set her at ease, and she returned to her drink.

_Strike up or bust_. Walter continued to pour the sugar into his drink, until she watched him, bewildered, "What are you doing?" she asked, and he jumped, dropping the sugar to spill over the table and on the floor.

"Oh!" Walter exclaimed, "how clumsy of me! I'm terribly sorry!" he scrambled to clean up his mess, thusly spilling his tea. From the corner of his eye, he could see Peter dying with muffled laughter, "You fool," he murmured under his breath with a smile.

"Oh- here, let me help you with that," the girl moved to the seat beside him, aiding his attempt with her own napkin.

"That's very kind of you," Walter smiled at her wryly, "I'm such a klutz. It's just…well, anyways, thank you again." he frowned sadly at her dripping napkin, "I'm very sorry…"

She laughed, "No problem," she smiled. Walter looked grateful, then glanced over his shoulder at Peter, who continued to gasp with laughter. She looked concerned, "what is it?"

Walter shook his head, "It's nothing. You should return to your drink."

"No, what is it? Why aren't you with your friends?"

_Bingo._

Walter sighed, "I…well…" he gazed glumly into his tea, "Do you see that woman, over there? The blonde?"

"Yeah."

Walter glanced up at the girl. One piercing in each ear; traditional, in some respects, "She's my daughter. And the man- the unshaven one? He's my son-in-law."

"Yeah?" she leaned closer, as his voice had dropped to a whisper.

Walter paused, then shook his head, "No. It's not your problem, not your fault…"

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

Walter poked at his remaining ice cubes, "It's just… I can't sit with them, when I know… but I don't want to hurt her…"

Her eyes widened, "You mean…?" she exclaimed.

Walter nodded quickly, "He brags, sometimes. Arrogant. I just can't take how blind she is, she loves him so much…" he set his face in his hands with a sigh, "But I would never hurt her, she looks just like her mother…"

The girl cast a glare in Peter's direction, "Yeah. I know. A while back, this guy… anyways, I'm sorry. But…maybe I can help."

Walter looked up hopefully, "How do you mean?"

"Listen, what if you didn't tell her, but she just sort of… found out?"

"Like…like leaving evidence for her to find?" Walter said brightly, then he frowned, "No, no, he's far too good for that…"

"It doesn't have to be _real_," she smirked darkly, "Listen, I've got a plan. What if you _planted_ something for her to find?"

"No, no, I don't think I could…"

"Listen. That bastard is hurting your daughter. Look. I'll give you my number, and you leave it for her to find. And, if she calls, I'll act like I know him, okay?"

"That's perfect!" Walter exclaimed. More than perfect. This would play in his favor. She was writing.

"What's his name?" she asked, "so I know what to call him?"

"Walter," he answered, watching her write on the napkin, "Such a handsome name, for a rapscallion…"

"Okay," she said, slipping him the number slyly, "make sure she finds this. And don't worry, we'll take this jerk down together." she gathered her things, wished him luck, and departed.

Walter sat at the bar for a while, basking silently in his triumph as he spun the napkin on the glossy surface of the counter, "'Kate', huh? 'To Walter, ex-oh, ex-oh'. Sheer _poetry_."

xXx


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter twelve

Olivia lifted her badge to the eyes of the inspector, "Olivia Dunham, FBI. We're the one's from Boston."

Peter, in turn, raised the neck strap of his own badge, "Peter Bishop. Civilian consult."

"Walter Bishop. I'm a Leo."

The inspector looked flatly put-out, and lead them down the hall and toward the morgue, "Took you long enough to get down here. This crap has been holding up my morgue for a week, and we've got other cases on our hands to deal with. This is a big city, agent Dunham, and we don't have the time or commodities to spare for a private sector case."

"We're terribly sorry to have inconvenienced your field office, but this case in a matter of national security. This lab has been sealed since the bodies were brought in, correct?"

He nodded as they came to a halt before the locked double doors, and he drew the key from his pocket, fiddling with the lock, "We had to move them from the scene. Too much traffic, you know… we tried to get everything we could, it's in lock-up for you… but I'm sure we missed something, we always do…" he swung one of the doors open, and they stepped inside, "Just take this stuff and go, alright? We've got a back up of cases we need to get on with."

"We'll try to hurry," Olivia assured him. She turned to Peter, "I'll get down to lockup to pick everything up. Then we've got to get over to the scene-"

"Wait," Peter said, and she paused in her hurried planning. He smiled slightly, "You're not going to stick around for diagnosis?"

Olivia looked slightly taken off-guard, "I guess."

Masks were dawned, "We brought her in after we found several people had shown up in the morgue with the same condition," the inspector explained evenly as Walter swept away the sheet covering the gurney, his eyes intent on his objective, "They had suffocated… their lungs had become _crystallized_."

Walter looked up at him, "Not crystallized. Observe," he leaned over the corpse of the young woman, murmuring apology as he placed the heel of his hand in the center of her chest, leaning on in. They jumped back as there was the sound of glass crushing, and the woman let out a small, sharp breath, and Walter snickered "Oh, how fun. Her lungs are merely coated with a substance that entered through her air passages, became a rosin when combined with moisture, and slowly hardened with the drying effect of more air being taken into the body."

"Like sugar?" Peter asked, deep in thought.

Walter shrugged, "A likely candidate. But perhaps fiberglass, anything that travels with the air, and can be inhaled… this looks a bit like…"

"What do you mean by sugar, Peter?" Olivia questioned.

Peter shook his head, "It was in the case file- most of these victims were illegal citizens. They would have found work where they could- and isn't there a sugar processing plan right there on the Hudson?"

Olivia nodded, "Perfect," she turned to the investigator, "we need to get a search warrant for that factory." and he nodded, hurrying out.

Walter looked up at them, pulling the mask away from his face. He was frowning, "You're serious."

"What? What is it, Walter?" Olivia questioned.

His face tightened with anger, and he stepped away from the gurney, casting his mask to the floor, "You're _serious_?! You brought me down here for _this_?!" he pointed to the body, crying, "_This_ was the pattern case?!"

"What are you saying?" Peter asked.

Walter gave a small, dark laugh, running his fingers through his hair in a quick motion of growing annoyance, "_Unbelievable_."

xXx

"So," Peter said lightly.

"So," Olivia said in reply. They sat in uncomfortable silence.

"_Mesothelioma_," Walter muttered under his breath, his face ashen. He almost seemed near tears, in his frustration, "You brought me here to diagnose an advanced case of _mesothelioma_. Good _god_."

"If it makes you feel any better, the warehouse the victims were working at is being brought up on charges for having a dangerous working environment," Olivia offered.

"Yeah," Peter added hopefully, "I'll bet the people that worked there are grateful."

Walter worked his jaw silently, his eyes steely.

Peter threw a lost glance at Olivia, whom only shrugged.

They pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and shut off the engine, and Peter turned back to his father, attempting some sort of condolence. "MESOTHELIOMA!" Walter barked before he could start, "Come on, Peter! That's mediocre medical diagnosis, at the most! A complete waste of time!"

Peter shut his mouth, sighing. He and Olivia left Walter to fume in the car, yelling his troubles at nothing, punching the seat and sounding the car horn repeatedly.

They rode the elevator silently, until Peter gave a small snort, and Olivia glanced at him, "What is it?"

"You know," he murmured, rubbing his temples, "If he'd just sat down and read the case file, he could have concluded this crap in Boston. But nope. He's got the attention span of a goldfish."

Olivia laughed softly, "Yeah. Kind of strings you along, doesn't it?"

"At the least. I've never been able to use the term 'waste of life' before, but I think this about nails it."

They were gasping with laughter when the doors of the elevator opened onto Peter's floor, and sobered only when Olivia insisted they quiet down to let the other patrons sleep. They made their way down the hallway, trying to withhold their humors, and at last reached the door of room 216.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Peter smiled, striking a tear of laughter from his eye, "Goodnight-"

"Peter," Olivia said, stilling him. She smiled at him, "It wasn't a waste. This trip, I mean. It may have seemed like it, but it wasn't. I haven't had fun like this… in a very long time."

No, it hadn't been a waste. If he could see her smile like this just once, make her laugh the way he had… there was no price too high. Peter hid his thoughts with a smile, "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"It's not over," Olivia said.

"No- we've got to head back to Boston tomorrow. You and Astrid will be flying up, I presume?"

"Yes."

"I'm thinking of sedating Walter and sending him UPS."

Olivia burst into laughter again, and Peter grinned, turning to unlock his door.

"Peter," Olivia said again, and he turned back to her, "Walter… he told me what you meant, by watching someone sleep."

Heat rushed Peter's features, "Old bastard. You can't take what he says seriously, you know. He's barely coherent, most of the time…"

Olivia shook her head, "I'll admit most of it didn't make sense. But… I think I understand." she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his shocked mouth, "I… I want to watch you sleep."

Peter took her hand gently, pushing open the door, "Okay."

xXx

Astrid really gave no thought to the lone, curled form on the lobby couch, until it called to her softly as she headed toward the elevator, "Miss."

She looked back to see Walter watching her unhappily from the sofa, "Are you angry with me?"

Astrid gave a small laugh, shaking her head, "Walter, what are you doing?"

Walter gave a large sigh, "Peter and Olivia are angry with me. I think I yelled at them a bit too much, and they left."

Astrid approached him, and he sat up, looking glum, "What do you mean? Where are they?"

"I don't know. Up in the room, I think. I called up a number of times, and they won't answer. I didn't mean to loose my composure, but _mesothelioma_…" he sighed again.

Astrid blinked with realization, "You mean…Peter and Olivia… they went up there together…?"

Walter looked confused for a few moments, when realization struck him and he jumped, slapping his hands over his mouth, "It's-they're-?!" heat rushed his features, "Oh, my…"

Astrid couldn't help but laugh, "Sorry, Walter, but it looks like you're out of a room."

Walter shook his head, "They're not mad at me at all… I-I mean, it's not that…well, I'm just saying…_it's about time_."

Astrid laughed again, "Well, I can't just leave you down here by yourself. You can stay in our- well, I guess it's my room, at this point…"

Walter looked shy, and Astrid nearly cooed. "No, thank you. I don't think that would be very appropriate-" He paused as Astrid reached into her grocery bag, drawing out a DVD case, "…unless you had _He-man and the Masters of the Universe! _Wherever did you get that?!"

Astrid chuckled, "I have my sources. It's called Blockbuster," Walter followed her into the elevator, reading the back of the DVD intently, "You really need to get out more, Walter."

"Even Peter wouldn't go this far to attend to my whims…" he looked up at her, a new-found adoration in his eyes. Astrid jumped and dropped the grocery bags as Walter suddenly leaned in to kiss her, beaming happily, "Thank you, miss!"

"Geck, stop it!" Astrid exclaimed, covering her lips and shoving him, a blush glossing her face, "_Old_, gross."

Walter paused, realizing his actions. Then, he shrugged, stooping to collect the bags for her, to hide his flushed features, "'Sorry."

"And my name is Astrid, you jerk."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

"If I did, would you let me kiss you again?"

"Do I have to buy you more cartoons?"

"It's a possibility."

xXx


	13. Chapter 13

Final Chapter.

There was no stillness to the helicopter. Peter briefly wondered if they had the thing running simply so Walter couldn't blow it up.

The wind whipped about them wildly as he loaded the luggage into the aircraft, and at last Peter and Olivia stood together, wondering how to say goodbye, and why it seemed so difficult.

Peter looked over his shoulder at his father, standing beside the Vista Cruiser, shading his eyes as the helicopter blew about the fallen leaves. Peter swallowed, turning back to Olivia, "I guess I'll see you back in Boston in a few days," he called over the whir of the wind.

Olivia smiled, nodding, "Don't let anything happen, alright?" she said. He could see slight apprehension on her face, and he brushed his thumb over the crease of worry on her lip.

"Don't worry," he replied with a smile, "I'll get back in one piece, you'll see." her hand on his tightened, quaking slightly with fear, like if she released him, he would disappear. He chuckled, stooping to kiss her, and wrap her in his arms, "I promise."

At the Vista Cruiser, Walter turned away from the helicopter to give his son his privacy, busying himself with the antenna of the vehicle. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned.

Astrid pulled her hand away, looking slightly shocked at her own actions, "Um, see you back in Boston, Walter," she said, jamming her thumb over her shoulder at the aircraft, "so…see you around, I guess."

Watching her blankly, Walter nodded. Astrid smiled, and headed toward the helicopter, "Astrid," he called, and she nearly stumbled, turning on her heel.

"You- remembered?!" she stammered, blushing slightly.

Walter looked abashed, "Well, actually no. You see, I cheated, and…" he held up his hand, her name scrawled across his palm, "but do you think it still counts?"

Chuckling, Astrid returned to him, delving into her side bag to pull out a DVD. She pressed it into his hands with a smirk, "It's a start," she replied, kissing him and heading to the chopper.

Peter and Walter sat on the hood of the Cruiser and watched the aircraft rise from the grass and depart, and disappear over the trees. They were silent for a few minutes, before Walter asked, "So, did I win?"

"Hmm?" Peter questioned, breaking out of his own thoughts. Walter stuffed a handful of napkins and scraps of paper into his sons' hand.

"I got more numbers. So I win," Walter looked smug, "Thirty-seven. All real, go on and call them. You have to eat butterscotch pudding, now."

Peter blinked in bewilderment, looking through the mass, "Walter, where did you even find the time to _get_ these?"

"Don't ask a master his secrets. Someday I may enlighten you of the secrets of the Bishop clan; for now, go fourth, and apprehend yourself a butterscotch pudding- I wish to watch you suffer." Walter swung his legs from the hood of the car, getting to his feet and moving to the off drivers' side.

Peter laughed, getting to his own feet, "The problem is that I _like_ butterscotch pudding, crazy man."

"You say that now. But you will soon know of its horridness, and when you do, I alone will bask in the glory of utter victory."

Peter got into the car, buckling his seatbelt, "You know you're going to have to call of these woman back, right?"

Walter looked stricken, "…What?"

"The entire reason you get a woman's phone number is to call her, and go out."

Walter looked cynical, "You're joshing me. What a pointless hobby."

"Is there a point to _anything_ you do?" Peter chuckled, starting the engine. Perhaps Boston wasn't as far away as he thought.

xXx

END.


End file.
